


Blotting a Stunning Tapestry

by AmericanPride



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:18:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmericanPride/pseuds/AmericanPride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If Matthew's brain had time to process, he would recognize Alfred, the boisterous teen occasionally appearing on the announcements in the morning or leading on certain plays. He was a boisterous character, personifying sheer confidence and perpetually relinquishing smiles....After years of excelling at becoming the blur in pictures, he mucks and blots Alfred's stunning tapestry. He could have kept picturing him as a likable character, perhaps even his favorite after seeing him become a number of friends he had found in books during performances. And here the thespian was, right at his gate, and he had idiotically and publicly put his lips to the other's without just cause. His face burned for an eternity in the few seconds it took the other to process his offer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blotting a Stunning Tapestry

Screams permeate the thick humidity, a collection of kids exiting a dark cave with pandering older siblings or parents in tow. A blond twist bobs with the owner’s chuckle, who grins behind a thick book, watching with mounting amusement as children rush past his stand at the school carnival. The senior may have been overzealous in helping design a haunted cavern for the school fundraising event, considering the original target audience were families with younger children. 

He does not immediately notice the two potential customers lingering near the gate, both bulking at the massive red letters screaming promises of fright in bold splatters of red above the entrance. 

"Hey, how about we catch that plane ride again? I feel like that's more up our alley." The fretful teen suggests placatingly, attempting to cover his trepidation with a brave bravado. One strand of hair teeters from a tawny crop perched above starry blue eyes hidden behind lenses. He is loosely holding onto a smaller hand with his dominant one, the other tightly wadded into a shaky fist at his side. 

"I'm not afraid as long as you're around!" The child emphatically promises in a prominent English accent, grinning up at the other, seeking approval for his own feigned confidence.

A fresh group of children rapidly traipse around the two wavering patrons, escaping an artist's rendition of horror. 

"Heroes aren't afraid of anything, right Alfred?" The younger prompts innocently.

"Right." The affirmation is unintentionally terse and immersed in uneasiness. He pauses, giving the other a theatrical forlorn expression. "'Course I'm not afraid of goblins or ghosts or demons or anything of the sort, but your father is another matter! He just might turn me into some kind of frog if I bring you back with a couple of parts missing. Trolls just love nibbling on lil' hobbits like you, y'know." He tickles the tyke's side and effortlessly slings the preschooler onto his shoulders. "Do you really want him turning me into a frog, Peter?"

The laughing kid looks down at Alfred and nods.

Screwing his face into one of dramatic distraught, the childish babysitter performs a practiced, controlled fall, positioning the other in a way to make him safely tumble on top of him. "I am dead." He laments lamely, closing his eyes. 

Peter convulses with giggles, brimming with mirth as he pokes his caretaker's cheek. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll make you a life potion and bring you back from the dead!" The boy trills affectionately, gesticulating the motions required to make the tonic prescribed. 

A toddler still affected from unseemly sights reminiscent of a nightmare grips her older sister's leg tightly, vigorously pointing at the fallen adolescent and wailing despondently. "He's dead!"

Curiosity attracts other carnival attendees instantly, a circle forming before general rationality can process the situation clearly. 

The ticket collector and orchestrator of the Cave of Horrors finally notices the pair near his gate and immediately his hesitant nature is forgotten. With a pounding heart he dashes towards the apparent victim lying on the ground, placing a hand on the low steel gate and leaping over for quicker access. The powerful presence of initiative slices through curiosity with ease and the athletic creator gently removes the boy possibly restricting the natural movement of his peer's chest.

The situation in its entirety was set far from even the cusp of the Canadian's comfort zone established early on in his schooling career. If his brain had time to process, he would recognize Alfred, the boisterous teen occasionally appearing on the announcements in the morning or leading on certain plays. He was a boisterous character, personifying sheer confidence and perpetually relinquishing smiles. 

The usually nameless teenager expertly pumps the epicentre of the spectacle's chest, placing his lips on the other’s and breathing life. 

He had made an erroneous oversight in taking a small girl's testimony for fact and jumping into action, but in conjunction with the crowd, his motions are instinctive from time spent as a camp councilor over the recent summer. 

Indignant, Peter huffs, not entirely understanding the intentions of the stranger seemingly kissing his hero. "Hey, I was going to bring him back to life myself! I don't need any help." 

The misguided words only serve as an instigator of apprehension and anxious excitement in loitering spectators watching as if the fate of the actor was completely dramatized. 

Spluttering involuntarily after the unexpected contact of warm lips and breath, Alfred jolts into a sitting position, warily glancing at the crowd his impromptu death created.

After a quick analysis and gauge of the circumstances, Alfred impulsively throws his arms around his saviour, deciding that would cause the least embarrassment on both their parts. He coughs convincingly and mutters a "thanks" in a strained voice. 

"Um, I'm glad you're okay?" 

Alfred allots time for the pacified assembly to dissipate and find more entertaining outlets. A familiar whine elongating his name and a tugging on his shirt is a shocking shot of disillusionment, suddenly exposing the bespectacled teen. He drops his arms to his sides and draws back, finally looking up at his theoretical rescuer. Invigorating fields of lavender eases the transition from his dramatized trauma to surreal reality. He silently notes an endearing twirl of ossified sunlight and meagre tilt of the lips in a daze, his own pair tingling with wet, atypical heat. 

"I'm sorry about all the trouble. I was just playing with Peter and didn't mean to cause any spectacle. It's just this running gag-type-thing we do, but that little girl saw and must have been freaked out by your haunted cave-thing. And I guess I owe you a thanks. I mean, if I had been really dying or something then I would have appreciated what you did for me. We were just talking about going into your horror tunnel before that happened, actually. Oh, and as you may have heard from Peter just now: I'm Alfred! What's your name?" He babbles near incoherence in his fanatical humiliation, pulling the peevish kid close and ruffling his hair. Blood colors his face profusely, cheeks becoming a harsh pastel of blood. 

Watching someone associated with entitled assurance unravel completely liberated the exchange student. A familiar character was becoming a person, inexplicably feasible and even relatable.

"My name's Matthew. And I apologize too; I should have checked your heartbeat before trying to needlessly resuscitate you." Itching an invisible scratch, a fleeting glance is surreptitiously taken before standing up and shyly deflecting his attention to the ground. 

"Um, maybe I can make it up to you with a free tour of the Cave of Horrors? I actually did a lot of the designs myself." Feeling like an intruder, he bashfully mentions his role in creating the carnival attraction, an attempt at impressing while supplying a chance for more interaction. 

Before the words finish leaving his mouth, hope evaporates and there is despair. After years of excelling at becoming the blur in pictures, he mucks and blots Alfred's stunning tapestry. He could have kept picturing him as a likable character, perhaps even his favorite after seeing him become a number of friends he had found in books during performances. And here the thespian was, right at his gate, and he had idiotically and publicly put his lips to the other's without just cause. His face burned for an eternity in the few seconds it took the other to process his offer.

"Uh, well..." The American jerkily skews his head away from Matthew, carding a hand through beige tresses. "I would, but Peter had his heart set on the planes, so---"

"No way, Alfie! Let's go inside the cave! There's probably a bunch of treasure hidden somewhere and maybe pirates and if there's pirates then there'll be fairies and maybe even some mermaids!" Peter interrupts, romanticizing the possibilities with an innocuous giddiness.

Misinterpreting panicky reluctance for polite avoidance, the outsider diverts his attention to the gate, unlatching the simple locking mechanism and stepping aside. “If you two want to transverse the Cave of Horrors by yourselves, I don’t have to tag along. I should really watch the entrance anyways!” Brazenly avoiding eye contact, an empty laugh falls from a forceful smile.

“Dude, I really need you to come with me.” Realizing the statement held a cowardly tone, the proud teen immediately begins blustering. “Not that any kind of demons you’ve rounded up in there could scare me!” He laughs loudly, a defensive reflex.

“Sure.” The tone is indulging, broiling in a thick humor. Matthew finally caught a realistic fault, a mar adding dimensionality to a stock character. His contrived smile stretches unbearably.

Heaving an impatient sigh, the impartial toddler snatches his caretaker’s hand and tugs him towards the cave. “Come on, then!”

“I’m being serious, Matthew!” Alfred insists, cheeks puffing as he testily stomps past his new acquaintance. His trample ceases at the grandiose entrance. An ominous chill slickly oozes down his spine at an icy crawl, causing him to shiver in his sweltering pocket of humidity. Wordless whispers interlace, consorting with unidentifiable inhuman noises. 

“Sorry!” Matthew apologizes immediately, awkwardly shuffling to the American's side. He consciously keeps his arms loose, hands open, slim fingers laxly extended invitingly. 

The gentle invitation is hastily taken, shaking digits vehemently finding solace. 

Peter leads the group, tugging his teenage guardian forward obliviously, not sensing any discomfort on Alfred's part or even the ominous atmosphere. 

Mediocre ghosts made from sheets drop from the ceiling, friendly emoticons in an array of primary colors stare at the group, a flair of white shooting down from the rope enclosing the bulbous heads and hoisting them up. 

Flinching at the sudden motion, Alfred reels backwards and swallows a whine. "Heh, that's cute." 

"Aren't they? I want one! I want one!" The preschooler wrenches his hand free from authority and jumps up repeatedly, trying to reach the lowest hanging decoration. 

Brows dipping under the weight of concern, Matthew actually looks into the actor's watery blue hues, oceanic irises rimming enlarged pupils. Thoughtlessly plucking a ghost from the flock, he drops the mild amusement for the child to catch. 

"Hey, Alfred? I'm right here." The guide squeezes the trembling hand enclosed in his own as an additional soft reminder. If the mediocre beginning made by apathetic volunteers spawned such an unwarranted amount of alarm, his portion would stir unendurable fear. Clearly his stock character encompassing infallible confidence and bravery had a serious phobia, which did not deserve exploitation. 

"I could take Peter through the rest."

Alfred testily jerks his hand free, pushing up his glasses and bounding forward. Swerving around, he delivers an excitable grin and full laugh. "I'm not scared of a couple of your lil' ghosts, Matthew! You gotta do better than that." He shrugs, tossing his hands towards both walls, as if the notion was completely preposterous.

Nonplussed, Matthew strides towards the incessantly petulant protagonist and yanks him aside. "You don't have to force yourself to go through this."

Bristling at sudden contact, Alfred begrudgingly focuses on the set of stern amethysts in front of him. "Dude, I'm fine." He punctuates his sentence with a laugh. "These kind of gimmicks haven't scared me since elementary. And even then, it took a lot more than this!" 

A dexterous finger slides under the lenses shielding flooding sapphires, coming into contact with a loose tear. Unaccustomed to intimacy, the inciter disengages, quickly stepping back. 

Incredulous, the performer stands stupefied, feeling denuded without the snug inviolable guise he kept like a convenient security blanket.

Typically the amiable violets staring into mesmerizing depths of blues refrain from direct eye contact, but the palpable vulnerability eases his unobtrusive nature. 

The actor was initially an expendable character, a novelty and passing infatuation for passé daydreams. Matthew falters, unsure how to broach the subject he had brashly unconcealed from a former source of esteemed intimidation. 

"Hey, everything alright? Shouldn't we keep moving?" Peter punctures the stream of silence separating the two high schoolers, attention drawn away from his attempt at capturing the other ghosts by throwing the one he's holding at them.

"Well..." An instinctive urge not entirely relating to his earlier distress on the behalf of his skittish guest causes an impulse, Alfred's absence suddenly becoming a necessity. "I actually had to ask Alfred to do this huge secret mission that only he can do. And he has to go now. It's super important and time sensitive. But I can take you through the rest!" Matthew raises his head demurely, clearly asking permission. 

The toddler looks up at Alfred for confirmation, not putting any stock in the words lacking both authority and validity. 

"Sure," Alfred answers noncommittally, distracted and not entirely listening after receiving an exit. "I'll see you soon!" He adds after a beat, chastising himself for not upholding his usual friendly demeanor in front of his mentor's son. Giving him a quick hug, he tramples out of the cave. 

Making a beeline for the wire fence separating the Cave of Horrors from surrounding attractions, the blond leans forward, slumping across the low diagonal pole. Shakily hyperventilating, he straightens and slides into a sitting position, placing his head between his legs. sweat pooling around his temples, matting his hair. 

Craggily brown plaster and wood slams into the ground, a violent thunderous crash echoing through the cave. 

The begrudging kid listlessly walking foreword with his newly assigned protector pointedly ignores the sudden drop of squirming spiders and remains unmoved when a clown sprouts from the floor. Peter's fuming is smothered in a fit of surprise at the sudden intrusion of sound and he grips Matthew's leg. "That's not part of your show, is it?" A burst of ecstatic smugness lights his face and he jumps up. "That's part of his mission, isn't it?"

"Maybe,” Matthew surrenders uneasily, ushering the temperamental tyke forward. “We should meet him at the exit as quickly as we can.”

Not needing any further urging, Peter shirks the newcomer’s hand and races forward, arms spread apart like an airplane’s wings. “I can’t wait to tell him how brave I was!”

“Hey, wait!” The older blond commands ineffectually. Dread uncoils at his core and he bounds forward, adrenaline seeping through every extremity. He forces Peter into a sudden stop and shoves the scandalized kid against the wall, shielding him. 

An angular sallow face stares at him from the exit, piercing obsidian orbs set in a frame of black around eye sockets, straggly white tresses curtaining a drab dress hanging without form. She stands at an abnormal statute, head nearly touching the roof of the infrastructure. 

Peter pokes his head past the forced protection and looks past the entrance, disappointment etched into his features. “There’s nothing there!”

Brows quirking inquisitively, Matthew eases forward, wondering if the superfluous supernatural display was somehow an elaborate prank that Peter was savvy of. He hears a fragile, definitive crack. 

Both spectators’ eyes are drawn towards the thunderous shriek exuding from the tall woman, who fitfully dissipates, languidly melting into dark mist.

The two blonds rush outside, both fretfully searching for the same person.

Matthew spots his quarry beside the entrance and settles into the grass beside him. He prepares a barrage of accosts, finding the entire predicament suspiciously convenient. The wan coloration and distress outlining the actor’s countenance gives him pause. “What happened? Are you okay?” As an afterthought, he adds an additional inquiry, “Where are your glasses?”

Alfred stands up abruptly, dodging the onslaught of questions by distracting himself with scooping Peter into his arms. “I just got really sick and need to go. But it was nice meeting you.” He stares at the grass while he speaks, barely managing each word, his voice continually cracking from strain. “I mean that.” He looks up at his new friend. “We can talk later. I need to bring this one home,” the care taker says with a nod towards his charge. “I’ll see you at school!”

Watching his new acquaintance dart away, the exchange student sighs and slumps against the wall of his cave, head pulsing with the unresolved issues the interchange with his infatuation wrought. “See you at school.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fan fiction is a sadly belated birthday present to my inspiration, muse and best friend, Katie! I apologize in advance if any concept or portion is lacking and will try to aim for higher quality in future chapters! I already have a lot of the plot planned out in my head and it was becoming difficult to pace myself. Any feedback is appreciated and if there any barring errors, please tell me and I will correct them posthaste!


End file.
